


Something's gotta give

by Nilaza



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Issues, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 05:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13991406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilaza/pseuds/Nilaza
Summary: When General Veers’ wife Eliana is killed in an accident, he must deal with the sole responsibility of his son Zevulon, and his not-so-latent feelings for Captain Piett.





	1. Chapter 1

Veers sat in an overcrowded conference room onboard the Executor with all the other high-ranking officers of the fleet. Admiral Ozzel was speaking, and had been doing so for the past few hours nonstop. It would have been impressive that the Admiral was able to monologue for so long without going hoarse, or even pausing to drink water, if he hadn’t been so deadly boring to listen to.  
Veers envied Lord Vader; he didn’t have to sit through these meetings and even if he did, no one could see him yawning or falling asleep behind his mask.

General Veers and the other officers around the table were not so lucky. Some poor bastard army major had once discreetly yawned and Ozzel chewed his ass out for half an hour for being disrespectful and insubordinate and threatened to court-martial him.

Major Phennir sat to Veers’ right, his back ramrod straight and staring at Ozzel, listening with all the focus and attention decorum demanded. Or at least he pretended to. Veers was pretty sure he was sleeping with his eyes open; Phennir was not one for long staff meetings.

On Phennir’s other side Major Tantor was taking notes but Veers suspected it was more doodling than actual note-taking. 

Veers smothered a sigh and took a sip of water from the bottle on the table in front of him. Despite being seated, this reminded him of the few occasions a superior officer made a speech in the academy and everyone was forced to stand at attention for the duration. On hot summer days, more than one cadet usually fainted. 

Frankly, Veers would rather stand in the sun sweating like a pig and begging for a cool breeze than to sit in this overcrowded room where the air was hot and stale. Sweat ran down his back and his collar felt tight and uncomfortable. His spine and legs were protesting being in the same position for so long. Damn it, he was getting old.

Veers shifted on the hard chair, easing stiff joints, and pulled a grimace when a pang of pain shot up through his spine. He was getting very hot and drinking water did not help. If only he could remove the damn gloves. He fantasized about pouring the water over himself, but decided against it.

Veers looked around the room to distract himself while listening to the Admiral with half an ear. The ships’ captains sat in a little group to the left in the oval conference room. Lennox had a dead look in his eyes. Needa was typing something on his pad, too regularly for it to be note-taking, and Veers wondered if he was transcribing every word coming from Ozzel.

Veers’ gaze fell on Captain Piett. Piett’s face was unreadable and he sat about half a meter from the Admiral, surrounded by bumf. Occasionally, Ozzel asked Piett to do something—hand him a flimsi or a pad, or read something on his pad aloud—so at least Piett had something to do. 

Ozzel once again turned his attention to Piett, “Piett, give me those schematics.”

“Yes sir.”

Piett fiddled around with multiple pads for a moment too long for Ozzel’s patience. “Tell me,” grumbled Ozzel, “are you just disorganized, or don’t you learn Basic in the Outer rim?” he snarled.  
“I apologize, sir.” Piett’s voice was calm and his face blank like the perfectly composed officer he was expected to be, but Veers was sure he was inwardly seething. Piett pulled out the correct pad from under a stack of them and handed it to Ozzel.

Veers grit his teeth and pretended not to notice, just like everyone else in the room. It was hardly new behaviour. Everyone from the lowest trooper to the General had pills to swallow daily with Ozzel as the CO, and it was as tiring as it was maddening. 

“With your glacial pace, I wonder how Lord Vader hasn’t killed you yet. I guess he knows your position is not very important since I am here to oversee things.” Ozzel went on, “Why they even let Outer rim trash in the navy to begin with is beyond me. I guess the academy has a sense of humour.”

That last sentiment was shared by many officers, Veers knew. Ozzel was not the only one climbing to the top due to power, influence, and old money. Being from the middle-class and the Inner Rim like Veers, was not as good either. Despite gaining victories for the Empire, and being the thought-police’s favorite propaganda poster boy, the old-money among the top brass still viewed Veers as a polished-up plebeian. Though few of them said so to his face. 

Being from the Outer Rim, however, was truly despicable. The sheer amount of nastiness Piett had to swallow daily was staggering, and he did it all without breaking his professional façade. Veers guessed that knowing full well that the nastiness was pure nerfshit helped. 

When Ozzel turned his attention back to the holoprojection, Piett looked up and met Veers’ gaze. Piett’s face was pale, and his deep-set eyes had purple bags beneath them. Piett looked as though he had not slept since the night before last. Veers curled his lips in a miniscule smile to which Piett merely raised both eyebrows, conveying how tired he was of it all. Veers would offer him nightcap if they were ever released from this room, and an ear to vent to if needed.

Ozzel droned on for an hour or so more, and then at last they were done. Veers reminded the present army officers to meet up in the morning at eight Standard Time for drills before everyone began chatting among themselves and collecting their things. Veers peeked at the chrono, it showed nine-thirty pm Standard Time; they had been there for almost seven hours.  
The air in the hallway just beyond the room felt almost as refreshing as a breeze dirtside, compared to the stale air in the conference room. Veers’ stomach growled, his throat felt dry and itchy, and he set course for the mess hall.

The officer’s mess was as good as empty when Veers arrived, and there was very little queue for the food. He chose a steak and potatoes, and a beer to go with it, and sat down alone at an empty table. A small group of officers were playing cards a few tables down, talking quietly and drinking beer. Two others sat further down, quietly eating. The hum of the Executor’s engines provided a subtle background noise. 

He sighed with relief as the cold beer alleviated his scratchy throat. The meat had been sealed and stored for a month or so, and it was a little dry, but edible.. Last time he had been on leave, he and Eli had spoiled themselves by buying steaks fresh from the butchers’; red and juicy and delicious. Zev had been at a friend’s, and he and Eli had the evening and the night to themselves.

Veers hoped he was granted leave again soon and reminded himself to call her when he got back to his quarters. Last leave had been…nine hells, he hadn’t had a leave in more than a year, he realised.

Someone sat down a tray with food opposite Veers with a thump, breaking him out of his thoughts. The mess hall had filled up without him noticing, as the majority of the meeting attendants had come down for dinner. The hall filled up with the sounds of voices and cutlery and foot steps.

Piett slipped down on the seat in front of Veers, and they clincked their glasses before both took a drink. On Piett’s place was a meager meal of fish and veggies. “The Admiral gave me paper work to finish by tomorrow morning, so I only have time for a brief dinner,” Piett said before he began eating quickly. Up close, Piett's angular face looked even paler, he looked completely haggard. 

“I wonder sometimes if you even sleep,” Veers said and took a forkful of his own dinner. He couldn’t help smile, the boredom of the meeting and the stress of the day quickly vanished in Piett’s company. 

“Rarely,” Piett said dryly, sipping his wine. He then put his glass down and glanced pointedly at Veers. “I noticed you were about as present during that meeting as everyone else.” 

“Yes, well, you know how it is,” Veers said, letting the sentence hang in the air while taking another bite of his steak. The thought of Ozzel being such a complete asshole to Piett angered him. Veers doubted anyone would hear in the crowded room, but he still leaned in and lowered his voice. “I am sorry you’re subjected to that kind of poodoo. And it is a steaming pile of utter shit. He is a right bastard,” he was a bit surprised about how intense his voice sounded.

“Oh, it’s all right” Piett said, taking another drink of wine before picking up his fork again. “Nasty words are hardly the toughest things I’ve suffered through. You needn’t worry about me, Max.”

“I wasn’t worried as such, I just wanted you to know,” Veers spoke in his usual voice. “This means you’ve got no time for a nightcap tonight, I guess?” he hadn’t either, he said to himself, he should call Eli.

“No chance,” Piett shook his head, and swallowed a mouthful of fish. “It remains to be seen if I get sleep at all,” he flashed him a quick smile. “I am not unused to that either; being in the Navy is a walk in the park next to the Axxilan antipirate fleet.”

“Especially when you’ve got army backing to carry out the hard work, eh?” Veers teased.

Piett snorted, “Dream on, dirtpounder, dream on. Last skirmish, you would have been dead without us!”

They were a good team and were effective together when Ozzel had been more concerned with macromanaging the fleet and left the Executor in the hands of her captain.  
They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Piett put his fork and knife down and wiped his lips with a napkin. “High time I started working. Good night, General.”

“’Night, Firmus.” Veers watched as Piett walked out of the mess hall, headed to his quarters. 

Veers ate quickly after Piett left. Being full left him tired, and the second pint added more pleasant drowsiness. He just wanted to go back to his quarters and sleep. But first he would make the call home. Too bad he didn’t have any leave dates at the ready. His thoughts were also still on Piett, though; he felt bad for him, doubted he would get any sleep tonight, and would probably make it through on caff and too many cigs. 

The doors to his quarters closed behind Veers, it was almost eleven Standard Time; the first graveyard shifters were probably already roused from their bunks and going down to the mess hall to have a light pre-shift meal. Back home on Denon it was mid-morning. 

Veers felt a headache creeping in and grabbed the bottle of water sitting at his nightstand, emptying it halfway while leaning his back against the wall. The water was lukewarm and tasted a bit stale, but it made his headache better. 

He eyed his com with some guilt. He hadn’t called home since Zev’s birthday a week ago, he had been too busy. He felt bad, but it was not the first birthday he had missed. He had both called and sent a gift, knowing very well it was a piss poor replacement for being there.

He grabbed the com, pressed in the long string of numbers and waited. Eli picked up after a minute or so. She turned on the visual and she was at their kitchen table in the silken dressing gown he’d given her a few years back. There was a mug of tea at her side and behind her, out the kitchen window, he could see the tree in their front yard.

He looked at her and smiled warmly. All he wanted was to be able to pull her close and kiss her.

“Hi Max,” she said, and all alarms blared in his head just by the tone. She looked at him sharply, her shoulders were set and her expression was closed. 

“Eli, hi, how are you? And Zev?” 

“Zev is upset his father was not at his birthday last week,” she said, sounding more disappointed than angry.

“I can imagine. Is he home? Can I speak to him?” 

“I’ll check if he wants to,” She rose from her chair and he heard her footsteps disappearing. He relaxed back against the wall, looking at the window and the kitchen counter. He didn’t even know what to say to Zev; he couldn’t blame him or Eli for being pissed off.

Veers heard a faint sound of a raised voice and a door upstairs slamming. Eli returned, “Zev says he doesn’t want to talk to you, he’s locked himself in his room.”

”It is okay, I don’t think forcing him to speak with me is going to help.” He shifted in his seat, feeling hot and uncomfortable. He forced himself to not avert his gaze, he was not that cowardly.

“No, I agree” Eli snapped, “you did promise him to be there, after all.”

There was more than a hint of an accusation in her words, and he deserved it for all it made him flinch. He should be experienced enough by now not to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. “I am sorry” he said. He had spent the last twenty years being sorry for not being home. He wondered when she would grow tired of hearing it and leave.

“I know you are Max,” she said with a tired sigh of someone who’s heard the same thing a million times already, and rubbed a hand over her face. “But that does not make anything better.”

He could have said the war would probably end soon or he hoped he could get a leave before long, but that sort of attempt at placation would just light a fire under her anger. He did not want a full-blown shouting match. “How is he otherwise?” he asked.

“He is slowly growing into a teenager,” she said. “He is not talking to me about it much.” A little smile played on her lips, but it disappeared so fast it might have been a trick of his mind. “He misses you, but aside from that, I think he is fine.”

A teenager. Where were the days where Zev was a tot, eagerly waving at him and babbling happily whenever Veers called? He remembered being home on leave, reading for Zev and playing with him during the day, taking him ice skirting or to the playground. “How are you?” Veers asked.

“I am fine, but I miss you too.” Eli still sounded annoyed. “At least I’ve been busy, work has picked up, I’ve got a trip off-planet tomorrow holding a lecture at a seminar for university students. In a few weeks, I’m off for a field trip to Byblos for three days. .”

Veers had heard of the place mainly due to its importance for the war effort. He was happy that she was going off-planet and did not sit at home twiddling her thumbs, and that she was going somewhere relatively safe.

“How are you? You look tired.” Eli said.

“I am fine, just sat through a meeting I feared would never end,” he chuckled, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

She did not crack a smile. “I heard about the Rebel uprising in the Midrim.” 

“We were there, and it was a swift victory.” Hells, he sounded like an ISB news reporter to his wife of all people. Not being able to tell Eli much was not new. Secrecy was only part of it. He had been foolish enough to share a little too much back when he was a young captain and had given her nightmares. 

“Were you wounded?” she asked, the corners of her mouth were still turned somewhat down.

“Not seriously.”

“’Not seriously? Max, that does not put me at ease” she frowned.

“A few broken bones and some superficial injuries, that is all, I promise.” It had been a few months back, and he was fully healed. However, it bothered him that he wasn’t bouncing back as quick as he used to. Old injuries were, little by little, beginning to pester him again, though he would not admit that aloud. 

“Eli, I love you.” Veers said, giving her a tentative smile.

She made a slight grimace. “I love you too, Max.” She did crack a smile then. “Call again soon.”

He promised to do so, and she terminated the call. He sighed and sagged against the wall, massaging his temples. Nine hells, this had not grown any easier over the years, sometimes, and he felt awfully guilty thinking it, he wondered if it wouldn’t be best to call an end to their relationship. Pull out the thorn in one go instead of this back and forth that was not good for any of them. But just the thought of not being with Eli anymore was unbearable as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Next morning at eight Standard Time, the more or less well-rested army officers met up for the scheduled training. They ran weekly battle exercises, which were almost as complicated to plan as actual skirmishes with the enemy, and had the downside of possible injury. However, they had the upside of familiarizing crews with each other and the equipment, root out problems with strategy, equipment or personnel, and keep people who would otherwise become restless and troublesome occupied.

Injuries were uncommon, but this time, Major Tantor was taken to the infirmary with a dislocated shoulder and Veers received a blow to the knee that was already causing him trouble.  
After having reprimanded the officers responsible for the screw-up, Veers was grudgingly transported to the medical wing along with the major.

So just around lunchtime, Veers found himself sitting on a hover-stretcher in the infirmary, killing the boredom by mentally going over the exercises. Major Tantor, on painkillers, was snoring like a rancor in the bed beside him, while the medical orderlies mended and bandaged his shoulder. Army personnel quickly learned to catch sleep or food whenever the chance presented itself, to make up for long days where neither were possible. 

Veers was too peeved to sleep. He felt ridiculous for being sent to the medics over a knee like a geriatric. He may be approaching fifty, but he was still alive and kicking. 

“Lieutenant Suvan, my knee is fine. Please release me,” he called when Suvan came ‘round to check on Tantor. 

Lieutenant Suvan eyed him, unimpressed. “Sir…”

Veers leaned back and sighed. “I promise not to overwork my leg until it is better, and take painmeds for the rest of the day. I have been here for hours.”  
Suvan walked over to him and checked up his knee under the bacta patch. It was just a bad landing and it had been strained, It didn’t even hurt anymore. “All right, General, I will release you. Doctors orders are take it easy, use meds, and if it gets worse, return.”

Veers gave word he would. It was well past lunchtime in the officer’s mess, so he headed to his quarters. One of the perks of being General was the ability to order food brought to his quarters. He was still limping slightly when he opened his door, but an afternoon of paperwork and a good night’s sleep was sure to fix it.  
Veers sat down behind his desk; a dry sandwich and a bottle of water had arrived from the mess hall, and he was ready to write a report on the training exercise when he noticed that his inbox has a new urgent message. 

He smothered a sigh, expecting to be summoned to the Admiral’s quarters to deliver a report in person. One could hope it was Captain Piett, he was more agreeable. He took a bite off the sandwich and opened the message.

It was from Denon, flagged as _Urgent_. The sender was the local police department.  
Veers frowned, thinking Zev had gotten into trouble. 

He sank his mouthful of food, and his guts felt heavy, his pulse was speeding up, he supposed old soldier’s instinct of something bad happening. 

_General Veers._  
_Regrettably we must inform you that your wife Eliana Veers was involved in a shuttle crash this morning at 08:00 local time. A faulty engine exploded, causing the vehicle to collide with another shuttle and burn. Casualties were 100%. Your son Zevulon Veers was not involved in the crash. He has been moved to the imperial boarding school at Denon City south district.  
We wish you a good day. _

For a heart-stopping instant, Veers was sure he must be having a nightmare. No, he could not fool himself into thinking this was either a dream or a mistake. Eliana was dead.

The thought was like a scorching blaster bolt straight through him. He breathed in sharply, and the motion hurt. He could see her before his inner eye as if she were right in front of him. The illusion lasted a fraction of second, then she was gone.

Eliana was dead, and Zev had survived. At least that, at least his son was alive. Now left without a mother, and with a father he barely knew. 

His stomach roiled, and the food turned to bile on his tongue. The pad was the first thing to go: he smashed it against the opposite wall as hard as he could. It dented the wall and bounced to the floor where it cracked in half, shattering the glass. The cup of caf went next, crashing into tiny pieces and spilling hot caf all over the durasteel wall and floor. It felt good taking it out on stuff around him, but it did not help.

_A faulty engine on the shuttle exploded_

He toppled the table next, cursing at the top of his lungs, not giving a shit that he must be waking up all his neighbours. They could just try complaining.  
Eliana was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. He heard himself roaring curses, incoherent words, threats, foul swear words to no one in particular, and to the whole Force-forsaken, fucking hellish universe. 

His chest was burning and his head spinning, his throat hoarse, and it still did not help. He continued either way.

Veers raged in his quarters and shattered stuff all around, flinging his chair into the door, smashing the dishware in his cupboard, slamming his fists against the cupboard door until his knuckles bled.  
He longed to kill someone or something. Though he knew rationally he could kill a whole fucking world and it would not bring Eliana back. 

The floor was soon covered in wreckage. He marched to and fro like a caged animal, crushing the fragments under his heels. Veers clenched and relaxed his fists over and over, breathing hard, searching for something new to break. 

If only there was a battle tomorrow. Some Rebel base begging to feel the Empire’s military at full force. He’d storm in there in full battle gear and stuff his E-11 down the throat of every single one of those traitorous scum.

But there was no battle coming up. In lieu of that, Veers begged for a traitor to appear, so he could break bones as he beat the fucker to death.  
Breathing hard, he opened all his cupboards but found only beer in the fridge. Nine hells, he could use a large bottle of the engine coolant Piett usually chugged, claiming it was liquor. Piett claimed that the Navy were better drinkers than the Army, and Veers could not let that slide. They’d drunk themselves hammered a few times, and privately, Veers admitted that the pint-sized sailor could hold his liquor better than he did.

Drinking his brains out and starting bar brawls did not seem like the worst idea in the galaxy, Veers thought while chugging half a can of beer from the fridge. The cold soothed his sore throat. He leaned against the counter and tried to breathe normally, to ease the burning sensation in his chest. There was a lump in his throat, but he refused to acknowledge it. He could use something stronger.  
He seriously considered going down to the officer’s lounge and drinking himself shitfaced. But he risked running into Ozzel, and he knew without doubt that his overall anger at the incompetent Huttfucker didn’t need much poking tonight to take a murderous turn. 

It would not be wise grinding his superior officer to mincemeat, for all the thought was appealing, and for all it would reunite him with Eliana damn fast. Reunite him with Eliana, but leave their son in the dump, which she would not thank him for. He had to be there for Zev.

He also had to ask Ozzel to grant him leave for Eliana’s funeral. The rest of the beer tasted like piss. He crumpled up the can in his fist when he saw her again in his mind, so clearly she might as well be here, close enough he could touch her.

The last time they spoke, the tone had been cold. It already seemed like a long time ago. Now she was burned to a cinder somewhere over Denon. 

_“Eli, I love you”_

_“I love you too, Max.”_

He imagined kissing her, pressing himself against her, and feeling her warm body on him, seeing her smile.  
Veers smashed his fist against the cupboard again, still holding the beer can, hard enough for his fingers to go numb, in an attempt to diffuse the horrible sensation of his guts catching fire.  
He swore loudly when the metal can cut into his skin. When he let go, he saw several superficial cuts on his palm.  
Snarling more cuss words under his breath, but grateful he had something to attend to, Veers held the hand under the water for a few moments, rinsing the blood off. Then he set the temperature as cold as it would go and splashed two handfuls of water into his face.  
The icy water helped clear his mind somewhat, and the cuts were not deep. He dried them off with a paper towel which he flung in the direction of the dustbin, lying on the floor with a boot-shaped dent.

No, screw it, he needed a strong drink, and to make arrangements, first of all a leave for the funeral. The thought sent a stab through his guts. Like back where he was a captain and some Rebel had tried impaling him with a vibroblade. Veers had fended him off and killed him before he succeeded in hacking him to pieces. He still had the resulting scar, which made Eliana cry when he’d shown it to her.  
He walked out and ordered a clean-up of his quarters on the way to the mass hall. He was not out to get plastered, but he needed a drink or two.


	3. Chapter 3

On his way to the lounge, Veers only met a few mousedroids and a couple of stormtroopers, whom he ignored. His knee hurt, and growling at it distracted him for a moment; he focused on how tired of old man pains he was, instead of on the fact that Eliana was space dust. 

Complaining joints were not enough to distract him for long, though. His mind returned to the accident as he walked through the lounge and to the bar. How much had Eliana registered? Did she see the engine start smoking, or even burning? Did she have time to be afraid? To pray to her goddess? To scream? To feel pain?

Veers’s stomach felt like an icy void as he sat down at the bar counter and ordered a large glass of Renan Irongut. It was nasty stuff, rumored to work as rust-removal. It burned down to his stomach, nice and distracting, almost as good as combat adrenaline.

Blast his thirty years in the army, permitting him to know exactly how it looked like when a person was killed in an explosion. He could imagine Eli’s horrified scream as her skin, flesh and bones were ripped apart, as she was fried and ground to fine particles. He gripped the glass tighter and took a deep drink.

One of the first years after the formation of the Empire, when Veers had been a captain, he was stationed on Anaxes. The planet was plagued by uprisings. The local governor ran out of patience and ordered a Base Dalta Zero on the capital city. Veers and his unit were sent down to raid for any surviving insurgents. But the BDZ had been effective: thousands of bodies littered the streets, burned and ripped to pieces. The smell of burning human flesh sat in his nose for weeks. COMPNOR of course covered it up, but Eliana had been horrified all the same, and Veers had lied when she asked him if he participated. 

A horrifying image of Eliana’s burned corpse appeared in Veers’ mind, but he kept himself from spitting the alcohol back up. Instead he forced another sip down his throat. He remembered the countless times he had seen fellow soldiers and officers in med tents. He remembered how Captain Ferran had stepped on a mine in the streets of Anaxes’ main city: he had to be carried back to camp with no legs, his guts hanging out everywhere. Blood-curling screams tearing from his throat.

Veers squeezed his glass to prevent his hand from shaking and took a deep breath. He drank again and coughed. The last time he had spoken to her, Eliana had been justifiably pissed at him. Her glare pierced him, and her voice was laden with anger barely suppressed. He hadn’t even been able to give her a date for his next leave. He still needed that leave, for Eliana’s funeral.  
Nine hells, if only their last conversation had been friendlier. If only he had been granted leave for Zev’s birthday, if only he could kiss Eli one last time, hold her, see her smile. But the only smile he’d ever get now was the tired, disappointed one of their last conversation.

His glass was empty. He ordered another and chugged it. His head was swimming a little, not nearly enough. The third glass he raised in a salute to Eliana. It was cheap stuff and she deserved better, but she had always deserved better than what he gave her. In a way, it was a very fitting tribute to their marriage.  
Now he had Zev to look after. Poor boy, left with a dead mother and an unsuitable, distant father. He considered for a moment that he could quit the army, take Zev out of boarding school. But what the hell was he supposed to do with himself outside the army? He should have quit years ago, if that was an option. Eli and he both knew it was not, and it had hurt her.  
Veers wished Piett was beside him; they could share a rowdy joke, or talk shop. Anything to keep him from thinking. But he supposed Piett was buried in overwork. 

The doors to the lounge slid open and Admiral Ozzel entered. As stout and undeservingly self-satisfied as always, he paced to the bar. Everything about him seemed to enrage Veers in particular this evening; from his beer-belly, his prancing gait, to the silly slug-like moustache, to the red, ugly mug and the fishy eyes. Veers stood and saluted when Ozzel noticed him. Too bad he wasn’t plastered enough not to. 

“Good evening, sir.”

Ozzel ordered a whiskey and eyed him. “General.” He sat down and took a drink from his glass. “Have I received the report on the training exercises yet?”

“Yes sir, I told Major Phennir to write and send it to you right off.”

“You could not do it yourself?”

“No, sir. I was in the infirmary, a knee injury.”

“You’re getting old, Veers,.” Ozzel took another sip.

And if you continue that way, you are not, “Yes sir. We had some minor damage, but I am confident the men and machinery will be at peak performance in battles to come.” Focusing his mind entirely on work distanced him from the horrible feeling in his guts. It was so good he was almost happy to see Ozzel’s fuckface. Only almost. Ozzel grunted something and kept sipping at his drink. Veers sat back down and wished Ozzel would piss off and pester someone else. Too bad moving away himself would be rude. Then something occurred to him. “Sir? A word, please.”

Ozzel turned his attention back to him. “Yes?”

“About my requested leave, sir -”

Ozzel’s red face reddened further in anger. “I have given you my answer, Veers. Was it unclear?”

“No, sir. Things have changed, however,” Veers pressed. He had to steel himself before he said it. Shit, it was all he had the strength to. 

Veers’ voice was even and professional as he continued, “My wife died, last night. I am requesting a leave for her funeral, sir.” Something gripped his guts and squeezed. His throat was thick. Saying it aloud was so much more awful than reading it, made ten times worse by the unaffected, sour face of his superior officer. It wasn’t that he expected sentimental tears, but if it had been one of his majors, Veers would have at least given the poor sod a few words of condolences, and a leave unless they were on the eve of battle.

Ozzel’s expression did not change, except for a flicker of scorn in the eyes. “I stand by my earlier assessment. The war is more important than your personal grievances, and if you keep on pestering me, I am going to court-martial you for insubordination. Understood, General?”

“Yes, sir.” Veers sat straight, his face blank, but he clenched the fist that Ozzel couldn’t see. The anger drowned out the heartache for a few precious moments. What he would not give to punch Ozzel.

“On the plus side, no guilt over being away from your wife, now,” said Ozzel in a detached tone, his attention on his glass which he drained before standing up again.

Veers stiffened as rage warmed his stomach and lit every cell in his body on fire. His vison all but reddened, and only years of practiced self-control repressed the shaking fury. His physical reaction was reduced to his hands fisting even harder, and his teeth gritting as every muscle in his body tensed. He wanted nothing more than to grab Ozzel by the collar, and smash his face against the bar counter repeatedly, until his ugly mug cracked open, spreading blood and goo all over. But Ozzel had been known for court-martialing people for glaring at him, so Veers kept his face expressionless, feeling the joints in his fingers complaining.

“General,” said Ozzel, before turning and walking away.

Veers looked after him and considered if being gunned down for killing Admiral Ozzel would be worth the pleasure. At least it would reunite him with Eliana bloody fast.  
He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. No, it would not be worth it, he still had a son who needed him. Yes, and that was why he was getting shitfaced on a Star Destroyer instead of being home and taking care of said son. _What a fucking amazing father you are._ His inner voice sounded like Eliana when she was pissed.  
Veers ordered another drink and swallowed it as soon as it touched the bar counter. His blood was still boiling, but the drink, and the thought of Zev helped. He watched as Ozzel walked away and through the exit doors. 

Veers almost wished he’d pressed on, and Ozzel had ordered him locked up in the brig when he thought about explaining to Zev that he could not be at Eli’s funeral. Zev was not keen on speaking to his father to begin with, and now that he really needed him for once, he could not be there for him. Veers slumped back down to his seat, the icy feeling in his guts was back.  
His throat was getting very tight, and he cleared it. He banged the glass down on the bar counter, and the ‘tender droid gave him a refill, and one more, and one more until he lost count.

Time passed, and Veers did not know how much, but he was surprised Piett had not shown in the lounge. Veers and he sometimes played cards in the latter’s quarters, and it was better than sitting here with nothing but the ‘tender droid and the umpteen glass as company. Veers stood from his seat and had to close his eyes until the ship stopped rolling around him. His legs were shaking. He cleared his throat and shook his head, straightened up and strode out of the lounge to Piett’s quarters.

Everything had gone to shit in the last couple of hours, and he hoped that Piett might have some strong alcohol on him, or something else to distract him. There was a little voice in the back of his head telling him this was not a good idea, but he could still stand and walk with almost no trouble and there was nothing bad in sharing a nightcap with a good friend. It was all Piett was, a good friend.

Piett opened the door when Veers rang it, only in boxers and with a tired look on his face. It must be later than Veers realized. 

“General, I was on my way to-“ Piett looked Veers up and down, and his eyes widened in surprise, “Boonta’s asshole, what the fuck happened to you?!”

Veers tried not to learn on the doorframe, “do you have a glass?”

Piett made an incoherent sound, but stepped aside, “looks like you need a bed more,” he smirked, “you lilly-livered lightweight.”

Veers turned to him, “lightweight?! –“ but his head did not like the sudden motion, and he staggered.

Piett moved to support him, “yes, and you look like hell.”

“I can still stand, sailor, so: do you have a glass?” Veers asked again. He leaned against Piett, who was warm and half naked beside him. Fuck it all, he thought. Veers placed a hand on Piett’s naked waist, dipped his head and kissed him. 

Piett stiffened in surprise, but then relaxed and responded. His lips were warm, and they parted willingly for Veers’ kiss, allowing him to dip in his tongue and brush it against Piett’s. Veers pulled him closer and felt Piett paw at the tunic on his back. 

Veers closed his eyes and only focused on the sensation of Piett’s body next to his. His head was swimming and his legs shaky, but Piett was warm and solid and steady under his hands, alive and responsive. 

Veers’ mind was blessedly silent as his body began responding to Piett’s touches, the warmth pooling in his stomach, and his pants feeling snug. He had wanted to kiss him for a while now, and Piett was a good a kisser as he thought he would be.

After a moment of snogging, Piett pulled back and caught his gaze. Veers felt Piett’s cock poke his thigh, but his eyes were focused, and his voice was level and a little sharp. ”General, are you thinking this through?” 

All he knew was that he wanted Piett here and now, consequences be damned. His head was swimming and he was done caring. He ground his hips against Piett, clothed erections rubbing against each other.

It had been months since Veers’ last had something, and his body reacted forcefully to the stimulation, “yes, damnit,” he kissed Piett hard. “I wanted this for longer that I want to admit.” A little alarm blared in the back of Veers’ mind and he frowned at Piett. “Don’t you want it?”

As a way of answer, Piett yanked him back down by the collar, and his kiss was demanding as he pressed himself to Veers. 

Veers trailed biting kisses down Piett’s neck, while slowly fondling his cock, and backing him up against the wall. “I’ve wanted to for a while. This, you,” he mumbled again. Long before Eli died, the shame of it rested heavy in his stomach as it had done for a long time. 

Piett dipped his head to kiss Veers’ mouth. Veers imagined Eli’s soft, warm lips, but instead of the sweet taste of the wine she preferred, Piett tasted of cigs and of strong tihaar. It was damn arousing, and Veers plunged deep into Piett’s mouth, while pulling his own tunic off entirely.

Piett pawed at Veers’ undershirt and pulled it out of his trousers, and his fingers raked over his chest up to his nipples. 

Veers in turn let ran his hand down over Piett’s warm chest and around to his back and down towards his ass. Eli’s skin would be soft and the swell of her tits fitting in his hands and he would caress her nipples with his calloused thumbs, making her moan. He could feel Piett’s ribs as his hands caressed his sides, and his wiry strength, and a prominent scar on his bony hip disappearing into the underpants.

They really should not be doing this but fuck it. He focused on the way Piett’s nails dug into his back under the tank top, and the sensation of Piett’s clothed cock rubbing against him and his biting kisses. He wanted more, and when Piett opened Veers’ trousers and palmed him through his thin pants he moaned into his ear, practically shivering with need. 

It was now Eliana would guide his fingers down to her cunt in return, making him touch her wet clit with his rough fingers, her hot breath making goosebumps break out on his neck. She would moan softly into his ear, and nipple lovingly at his earlobe. “Max, right there” she would whisper.

Piett bit a kiss ionto his collarbone, and palmed him inside his trousers fast and roughly, rubbing himself on Veers’ thigh. Veers felt his erect cock clearly through his trousers. Eli disappeared from his inner eye.

Veers continued to roll his hips into Piett’s hands and pulled the sailor’s pants down to knead his ass. Nine hells, it felt good to be wanted. Eliana’s tits would have stroked against the skin of his bare chest if they stood so close together, and her ass would have been softer and rounder that the scrawny one he was currently groping.  
Veers braced Piett against the wall and continued kissing him, stubble scratching his chin where Eli’s skin would be smooth.

“Max,” Piett’s voice shattered the illusion again. He spoke into Veers’ ear, breathing onto the fine hairs of his neck. He pushed Veers away slightly, with a hand on his chest. “This wall will kill our backs. The bed is in the next room.”

They staggered to the bed. Piett pushed him down onto the blanket and sat astride him, grinding his now naked erection up and down Veers’ stomach. Veers freed himself from the tank top, and his hands came up and caressed Piett’s flanks and his back, sliding over sensitive skin and a few old scars.

Piett leaned to kiss him. Eliana had always been active in bed, but it was nothing compared to the rough, almost possessive way Piett now kissed him. Open mouth and tongue on his, teeth clattering against Veers’ and still grinding himself on Veers’ torso.

Veers moaned as his cock gave a twitch. He felt hot and painfully hard in his pants. He pushed off his boots and reached down to fiddle with the buttons of his trousers. 

Piett moved down and pried Veers’ hands off his trousers, to do them himself. Piett yanked pants and trousers down over Veers’ hard blaster, already leaking precum. He gave Veers a sultry grin, and bent  
to take him in almost to the base.

The moan that broke out of Veers’ throat he was sure was audible all the way to the bridge. He’d be ashamed were it not for the narrow wetness and warmth that encased him, blocking out everything but the need for more, deeper, faster. 

Eli’s mouth was smaller, and she would turn around to sit on his face so that he could lick her while she did him. Veers moaned again, remembering the exquisite moans he could coax out of her when he ate her out. 

Piett bobbed his head up and down, sucking and licking at him a few times before releasing him again. He crawled up to kiss him hard, letting Veers have a taste of his own precum. It was unexpected, untasteful to his tongue, but strangely arousing. 

Veers’ head was clouded with arousal and alcohol in equal parts as Piett continued to kiss him. “E - Firmus?” Veers rasped at last. He really hoped Piett hadn’t notice the near slip-up as he stroked his back and went to squeeze his ass, dipping a finger in the crevice to underline his words.

Piett sucked a love bite into Veers’ neck just above the collarbone. “Get the lube in the drawer and take me, General,” he ordered.

Veers made no protest to the order. He fumbled to open the drawer and knocked several things about inside it until he found the lube. He tipped Piett over beneath him, and came to his knees to squirt some lube onto his fingers. Eli’s cunt would be wet and more than ready for him to shove himself in. 

Piett lay on his back, his legs spread and a pillow under his hips, his cock red and hard against his stomach, and his cheeks flushed. He frowned when Veers hesitated. “D’you need instructions, dirt-pounder?”

Embarrassment found its way through the fog of alcohol and lust, and Veers’ cheeks heated up. “I don’t normally go about banging naval officers.” Before Piett could open his mouth, Veers continued, “But no, I think I can figure out the basics: lube on fingers, stretch, then cock.”

Piett grinned. “You aren’t as dirt-brained as you look, General!”

As a revenge, Veers leaned to nip at Piett’s neck, and he caressed his anus with lubed fingers a little more roughly than he would have otherwise. But Piett just moaned, spread his legs and raised his ass further, asking for more.

Piett ran his hands up and down Veers’ flanks and to his back, dragging his nails in, and a shiver ran down Veers’ spine. Eli’s touches would be gentler and her hands not as calloused.  
Veers wriggled and caressed until the first finger was beyond the ring of muscle, and he could work on relaxing and stretching Piett, as he moaned in appreciation.  
“Max, get a move on!” Piett growled into his ear after a few moments, voice deep and authoritative, in contrast to Eli’s, though she liked ordering him about too.

Veers moved his hand from Piett’s ass and shifted his weight on both arms. Finally he could thrust in, and feel his cock surrounded by hot, sleek and tight flesh, not a lot different than being with Eli. 

Piett grunted and relaxed after a few slow thrusts. Eli would wrap her legs around his hips and take him deep, rake her nails down his back and kiss his mouth as she thrust in tandem with him.

Veers groaned as Piett shoved his ass up, taking him far enough to stimulate him properly. He supported his weight on his elbows on either side of Piett and thrust faster into the warm, tight hole. 

Piett moaned and gripped onto the bedcovers, keeping up with Veers’ thrusts, placing himself as best as possible for Veers to go in deep.  
In this position, Eli’s tits would touch up and down Veers’ chest, and the hair around her cunt would tickle his groin. 

Instead, Veers felt Piett’s cock on his belly as the latter moved under him to create friction, wetting them both with precum. Piett kissed him and Veers again tasted cigs, breaking the illusion of Eli’s mouth on his.

Veers kissed Piett’s ear, his jaw his chin. “Eli” he mumbled, closing his eyes. The sound on flesh on flesh filled the room. Veers’ panted and moaned, “Eli.”

Piett moved under him, and for a moment he wondered if he was trying to get up and slowed down. “Faster! Thrust, damn ye!” Piett hissed between grit teeth. He bit Veers’ earlobe, hard enough that it hurt, and thrust from below.

Veers obeyed and stopped holding back; he pounded vigorously into Piett, the sensation of hot, tight flesh around his cock making his head swim. His balls contracted with a building desire to orgasm. He moaned louder, the scent of Piett’s navy aftershave in his nose and the taste of the other man’s mouth as they shared teeth-clattering, biting kisses. 

“Eli,” he couldn’t stop himself from mewling, imagining her skin, the taste of her kisses. He would reach down and rub her clit with his callused thumb as he fucked her, and she’d moan deliciously in pleasure. 

“Max, right there, more.”

He remembered the sound of her aroused voice, the way her legs would quiver, and her tits heave up and down as she panted. The way she’d squeeze her legs around him. Maybe they’d be seated, and he’d have one hand free to grope around her tits, caress her nipple while the other hand rubbed her clit and he buried deep inside her.

Piett growled something Veers couldn’t hear, and he saw him clutching the sheets, but he moaned at every exhalation, and reached down to pump himself while Veers thrust into him.  
Piett swore, and his fast, ragged breaths and the sound of his voice yanked Veers back to the present.

“Eli,” he breathed again. But he could only focus on his building-up orgasm and the living, warm and responsive body underneath him. He bucked against Piett during his release, the sensation and smell mixing with the memory of Eli’s. 

Piett growled so loudly into his ear it startled him out of the fantasy, and he felt his release between their stomachs. Panting and moaning, body going stiff and then relaxing.  
Veers rolled to the side, slipping out of Piett, and lay panting on the mattress beside him. The post-coital bliss and the living, breathing body close to him, coupled with the alcohol, made it so easy to shove aside any notions of guilt. He was tired, and everything else could damn well wait till the morning.

Veers’ eyes closed, and his body seemed to melt into the bed. The mattress moved when Piett stood but Veers didn’t hear if he said anything. Shortly after, he registered the sound of running water. A few more minutes, and he was asleep.


End file.
